


The funniest, weirdest, and overall most terrifying meet-the-family Christmas lunch EVER

by Cute Negativity Cloud (Ofelia)



Series: An endless list of clichéd and ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS AUs, Half Bad edition [2]
Category: Half Life Trilogy - Sally Green
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Christmas AU, Established Relationship, Homophobic Language, M/M, Meet the Family, it's just one insult but better be safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofelia/pseuds/Cute%20Negativity%20Cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel has a cold house to wait for him on Christmas. Nathan will have none of it. Problem: Nathan’s family is nothing short of equal parts entertaining and nosy. Which makes for quite the Christmas lunch recipe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The funniest, weirdest, and overall most terrifying meet-the-family Christmas lunch EVER

Nathan lit a cigarette. He chewed out the words around its butt, as if shy, as if nonchalant.

“You know Gabriel, I was thinking…”

But when he locked eyes with him, his gaze held the intensity of all his ferocity, of all his care. A wild wolf, hopelessly protective.

“You could spend Christmas with me.”

“At your house?”

“Well duh, where else?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for such a big step already?”

Gabriel was teasing him, but underneath the joke they knew it was both a big deal and not such a big deal. Nathan’s family had known for months. According to Deborah, Nathan just couldn’t shut up about Gabriel – which, given how the boy was in his sullen and silent punk rock phase, had been noted since day one. The general consensus in the house was that the real deal couldn’t be anything but disappointing by now.

“It’s not why I asked. Although of course I don’t mind. Arran keeps dropping hints he wants to meet you every time he gets back from university, it’s annoying.”

Gabriel chuckled, but it sounded hollow. Nathan brushed a hand through his hair, cupped his neck. Their foreheads touched.

“I don’t want you to be alone with your father on Christmas, in that empty house. But I understand if you don’t want to come. Plus my family is pretty weird. And overbearing. But they’re nice. And I’m sure they’ll like you. Well, save for Jessica.”

Gabriel laughed a little, more lively this time.

“As I understand it, Jessica doesn’t like anyone.”

“Certainly no one associated with me.”

“Is she going to be there?”

“She will drop by, probably, but she never stays. She will be very unpleasant though, I’m sure. That’s her gift.”

“What a _peach_ ,” Gabriel said, closing his eyes. The thought of something _else_ instead of an empty house and the depressing sight of his dead-eyed father was so, so tempting.

“That she is. So…”

Nathan searched for his eyes. He had that look Gabriel loved, all fierce protectiveness and disarming vulnerability.

“I can’t wait.”

The cigarette laid forgotten, burning slowly to ashes.

 

“So what should I wear?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to stand out. Or be underdressed. Give me a hint.”

“Nobody will care about your clothes, Gabriel.”

“Are you sure about that? What does your grandmother think is appropriate meet-the-family wear?”

“Gabriel, are you _nervous_?”

“Whatofcoursenot.”

“…Really.”

“Ok, maybe a little bit. But what do I know, maybe you’re the kind of family who thinks adorably ugly winter sweaters are customary wear for Christmas. If that’s the case I need time to prepare myself mental-OW!”

“There are no ugly sweaters, just bring your sorry ass to my door at noon and you’re going to be fine. And stop worrying.”

 

“Should I bring something? Some wine, maybe?”

“What? Where?”

“To the Christmas-slash-meet-the-family party.”

“Didn’t we agree you just have to get to my house and everything would be perfectly fine?”

“No you agreed to that, I was wheezing from the punch you landed on my ribs.”

“I am sorely tempted to try that again.”

“You’re adorable. So about the Christmas-slash-day-of-Judgement-that-Gabriel-won’t-pass-because-of-his-sour-and-unhelpful-boyfriend…”

“ _For fuck’s sake Gabriel._ ”

 

Christmas morning found Nathan and Arran slaving away in the crammed kitchen under Gran’s orders. The smells coming from the pots and pans littering the stove were delicious. The family’s favourite – crepes with spinach and ricotta, covered in béchamel – was cooking in the oven. The kitchen table was a joyous chaos of peels-covered chopping boards and plates of ready entrées: tiny rolls of goose pâté and white bread, so soft it melted in your mouth; crispy vol-au-vent with mushrooms’ or cheese cream; soft croutons covered in succulent lard.

The doorbell rang just as Nathan and Arran were clearing the table and filling the sink.

“Go answer it, Nathan,” said Arran. “We’re done here anyway.”

“We’re not done at all,” Gran interjected before covering the steaming contents of a pot and turning off the stove, “there’s the cookies to make. I should put your boyfriend to it, Nathan, see how he fares.”

Nathan, already halfway out of the kitchen, stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

Gran stared back, a challenging look in her eyes. Arran laughed.

Shaking his head, Nathan went to the door. When he opened it, Gabriel was there, wearing a radiant smile and a white sweater with an horizontal band made of stylized snow crystals. His wavy hair was done up in a short ponytail. A few strands were strategically loose, framing his face.

“That sweater is definitely not ugly,” Nathan breathed out. Gabriel’s eyes sparkled in amusement.

“You like it?”

Nathan wasn’t looking at the sweater though. He played with a strand of Gabriel’s hair, curling it around a finger, as he said, “I like it a lot.”

Gabriel looked as if he was on cloud nine.

 _Resistance is futile_ , Nathan thought as he kissed him.

“Nathan, stop sucking face with your boyfriend and close the door! It’s cold outside!”

Arran’s cry of “GRAN!” could be heard coming from the kitchen, but the old woman was laughing – probably at his scandalized tone. Nathan sighed and let the other in.

“I think Gran has decided to play the role of the impossible mother-in-law.”

Gabriel chuckled. “It’s a good thing I brought some wine then,” he said, and he handed Nathan a bottle wrapped in golden bows.

“Well, good, but you didn’t have to.”

“Actually it’s from my dad. When I told him what I planned for Christmas he suddenly got very serious and asked me how many months we’ve been together.”

Nathan scowled at that.

“He wasn’t judgmental, more like honestly surprised. I think most things just blur past him, you know? But when I told him that, he suddenly woke up. Next thing I know, he’s shaven and wearing good clothes and shoving this newly-bought bottle of wine in my hands.”

“Well, that’s… a good sign, right?” Nathan asked, searching Gabriel’s face. The boy just hummed, noncommittal. He was too used to keep his expectations as low as possible to consider this an improvement.

Gabriel handed him a present he had tucked under one arm. It was wrapped in Santas-and-reindeers gift paper. Nathan snorted. “Really, Gabriel?”

Gabriel feigned hurt. “Well if you don’t want it, Mister I’m-too-punk-rock-for-you-peasants-and-your-silly-capitalist-celebrations…”

Nathan kissed him again – briefly, this time. “I’ll put it under the tree with everybody else’s. Yours too, by the way.”

Gabriel smirked. “I can barely contain my excitement.”

“If you think I won’t hit you because we’re in public, think again,” Nathan said, guiding him to the kitchen – not that it was hard to find; the house was _tiny_. In just a few steps they were past the table – set for six – and the happily crackling fireplace. Nathan left the present under the Christmas tree, decorated in gold and white. Gran had insisted on a new set of gilded angels, which Deborah had agreed were a fantastic idea. Nathan found them absolutely ugly, but the two women had dismissed his aesthetic opinion. So now they were stuck with delicate blown-glass balls, cute golden bows, and those godforsaken scantily-clad baby angels.

“Those are some… _interesting_ angels you got there,” was Gabriel’s comment upon noticing them.

To Gabriel’s horror, Nathan ran to the kitchen’s threshold and yelled, “You heard that Gran? Even Gabriel thinks those angels are ugly!”

The boy peered into the room from behind Nathan. “That is totally not what I said ma’am, I swear.”

Gran waved a sauce-covered wooden spoon in the general direction of her grandson. “Oh I know young man, and I don’t really care what you artistry youngsters have to say about _my_ tree, sitting in _my_ house, anyway.”

Nathan showed her the bottle’s label, and she said, “French wine? Fancy. Probably too much for what we have for lunch.”

“It’s a gift from my father, with his best Christmas wishes. And I think the lunch will be perfect. It smells delicious in here.”

Gran smiled. “Never thought Nathan would have landed himself a smooth-talker, of all people.”

Nathan scowled, evidently not liking that line of reasoning, but Gabriel looked pleased by the comment so he didn’t say anything. Gran put the spoon down, wiped her hands on her apron and shook hands with the boy. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriel.”

He flashed his most charming smile. “Likewise. Thank you for having me.”

As he shook hands with Arran too, the latter said, “We finally meet. Nathan talks so much about you, I feel like I already know you.”

Gabriel instantly perked up at that. “Really?”

Nathan shot a murderous look at his brother.

“So, boys,” Gran said, covering the table again with a new array of utensils and ingredients, “Deborah and David aren’t here yet, so while we wait for them, Arran and Nathan can finish preparing the table, and Gabriel can help me baking the cookies.”

Nathan said “Gran, do you _have to_ ” at the same time that Gabriel said “Ooh, what kind of cookies?”

Nathan then stared at him with an incredulous look.

“What? I can help. I’m not _that_ useless in a kitchen.”

Nathan threw his hands in the air as he said, “ _Whatever,_ ” before he went to the lunch table, a clearly amused Arran in tow.

 

Cookies, it seemed, meant _gingerbread_ cookies. Gabriel had never baked them – actually, he baked very little to begin with, although he was getting the hang of pancakes – but Gran gave orders like a general and instilled twice as much terror, so the work proceeded smoothly. While he measured the dry ingredients and sifted the flour, the woman ground the spices in a marble mortar, all the while instructing him with a critical look in her eyes.

 _Who knew baking could be a test?_ Gabriel thought, amused. He was waiting for the questions to start – admittedly, he might have been a little antsy about them. As he worked the dough and Gran added the spices, the silence stretched. He distracted himself by listening to the conversation wafting from the dining room. He couldn’t make out all the words, just muffled whispers. Nathan’s brief, subdued laugh. He always laughed like he wasn’t allowed to, like he was stealing the possibility and had to make it quick.

When Gran snorted, he realized he was smiling, if only a little.

“Let’s see what you did here while you got distracted by Nathan’s voice,” she said, but not maliciously. More like both entertained and absolutely fed up. Satisfied with how the dough had turned out, she moved him aside and expertly rolled it out with a wooden rolling-pin. Gabriel thought with a pinch of dread, _She’s disturbingly good with wooden potential weapons._

“Good enough?” he asked, a slight anxiety bubbling just underneath his skin.

She smiled at him, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m just messing with you young man. I trust Nathan. And I trust my old bones’ judgment, and my bones say you’re as sickeningly in love with him as he is with you.”

Gabriel beamed. “Are we going to cut them out now?”

“No, I’ll do that after lunch. You can go.”

“Really? I don’t mind help-“

“ _Did I stutter_?”

“…No ma’am.”

“Go.”

“Yes ma’am.”

 

Arran laughed. “She said _what_?”

“ _Did I stutter, young man?_ ” Gabriel said, with his best Drill Sergeant Nasty voice impression.

Nathan looked dismayed. “What is wrong with her? She’s not like this usually, I swear.”

“ _I can hear you!_ ” Gran yelled from the kitchen.

“I think we’re all just feeling a little protective, that’s all,” Arran said. “I mean, think about it this way: her youngest grandson is being swept off his feet by a foreign boy who smokes, loves to climb to dangerous heights, and thinks Heathcliff is absolutely adorable.”

Gabriel gaped at him, then turned to Nathan. “Wow, you really do tell them _everything_.”

Nathan looked sheepish. “It…might have slipped.”

Just as Gran emerged from the kitchen with the first full plates, the doorbell rang again. Arran answered it, letting Deborah in, her daughter Natasha in one arm and the other barely holding a big stack of presents. “I’m so sorry,” she said, as Arran helped her (all the while making faces at the toddler), “but David got called in town for an emergency and had to go. Someone’s roof collapsed and he couldn’t bring himself to say no.”

“Sounds like David,” Arran said, while they eased Natasha in the baby seat. Deborah rolled her eyes. “Yes, it does. Let’s hope he manages to drop by later, although I doubt he will. It’s not like a collapsed roof is a matter of a few minutes. Which means,” and at that she turned to Gabriel, her smile wide and teasing, “I get to know the charming Swiss prince _before_ him!”

While Gabriel shook her hand he heard Nathan muttering under his breath, “ _I am so regretting this decision._ ”

 

Lunch was, indeed, delicious. It was also very generous, so everyone felt pleasantly sluggish by the end – a fact not helped at all by the excellent mulled wine Gran prepared with Raphael’s gift. Gabriel nursed his mug, inhaling the rich smell of cinnamon, clove and orange mixed in the red wine. They had all moved closer to the fireplace, mostly moving the chairs from the table to the warmer corner, since there wasn’t much space to begin with. Nathan had claimed the privilege of having the couch, on which he was now laying, with Gabriel as cushion on one side and Arran as footrest on the other. _So spoiled_ , Gabriel thought, while enjoying Nathan’s weight resting on his chest.

Deborah and Gran were sorting out the presents, handing them to everyone. Natasha sat on the floor, and with her red Christmas dress she almost disappeared when the gift wrap started to clutter the ground. She didn’t seem bothered though, opting for squealing in delight when she discovered that the paper made a very interesting crinkling sound if squeezed.

“Look, Gabriel,” Deborah said, handling him a little packet wrapped in silver, “this one’s for you.”

Gabriel handed the mug to Nathan and took the present. It was heavier than he thought. As he unwrapped it, he could feel Nathan tensing slightly. As always he was trying to look disinterested, still lazily draped on the couch and totally not watching Gabriel’s reaction.

When he saw what was inside, he smiled down on him. “Did you do this yourself?”

“Yeah. You like it? You can change it every day. Put quotes from your books and stuff,” Nathan said, hiding behind a sip of mulled wine.

Gabriel kissed his forehead. “I love it.”

It was a mug, with a black glossy band painted on and two holes in the handle with tiny chalks into them. Gabriel took out a chalk and started to write the first quote he could remember, when Gran said, “Ah, this is yours, Nathan.”

Nathan sat up and took it, precariously balancing the mug on the coffee table – which was now covered in wrappings and paper and bows, which covered various stacks of Arran’s textbooks and notes. The present felt soft and light. Nathan started to unwrap it. When he could make out a little portion of it, he turned to Gabriel, smiling incredulously. “ _No._ ”

“Oh yes,” the other said, wriggling his eyebrows. Nathan finished to unwrap it and burst out laughing. “It’s a sweater!”

“What’s so funny about a sweater?” Arran asked, smiling despite his confusion.

While Gabriel explained to him the little inside-joke, Nathan looked at it better. It was black, very soft. The cuffs were decorated with white snow crystals that were suspiciously similar to the ones on Gabriel’s own sweater. The best part, though, was that the thick plaits formed a big skull at the front. He put it on, over the black long-sleeved shirt he wore, and brought the soft material of the neck up to his nose. It smelled new, and it was so _warm_.

A sudden silence made him look up. Everybody was staring at him.

“What?” he asked, dropping his hands to his lap – had he just been caught snuggling with a sweater? He had not been snuggling with a sweater. Totally not.

Deborah interrupted the silence saying, “D’aww,” at which Nathan was sorely tempted to throw a cushion at her, and everybody else laughed.

“Isn’t he adorable?”

“I always say that.”

“Adorable? When he’s not picking fights and getting himself detention, maybe.”

“Face it, Nathan. Everybody in this family thinks you’re adorable. Well, save for Jessica.”

“I hate you all.”

“See? Adorable. Look, he’s blushing.”

“GABRIEL STOP THAT OR I SWEAR TO GOD.”

“Why am I the only one who gets threatened?” Gabriel asked, hugging him and planting a kiss on his cheek (since he didn’t know yet what the rules about PDA were and he didn’t want to test his luck with General Gran so close). Everybody else had resumed sorting the presents out. Arran slid to the ground next to Natasha and attempted to teach her that her new rag doll was to be held gently, not used as a baseball bat.

“Because Deborah is a mother, Arran is studying to become a doctor and save lives, and Gran is terrifying,” Nathan answered.

“So I’m the useless and nonthreatening one.”

Nathan leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You’re useful for other kinds of activities.”

Gabriel’s hold tightened a fraction. “Oh? Like what?”

“Oh you know,” Nathan said, grasping Gabriel’s hand and standing up from the couch. “Things you can’t write home about when you have a puritanical family.”

 

Apparently, ‘things you can’t write home about when the home happens to be the puritanical Ashworth-Byrn household’ included smoking. That’s why Nathan guided Gabriel to the back of the kitchen and out in the garden, where a few hens pecked away peacefully. An unspoken rule of the house was that Nathan’s smoking – stress on _Nathan’s_ , not because nobody else smoked, but because nobody else had permission to be so daring – could be tolerated, as long as it didn’t happen inside the house, and as far away as possible from children (which meant only Natasha).

The hilarious similarity to sex was not lost on Gabriel.

“Does Arran ever try to talk you out of smoking by showing you horrible pictures taken from his textbooks?” Gabriel asked as he lit a cigarette. He shook the match to put it out and let it fall to the frozen ground. Something Nathan was fastidious on was that he hated lighters and only used matches.

“That’s more of a Gran's thing. Arran just gave me that wounded puppy look in the beginning, but I got really angry about it so he stopped. I never want to fight with him but that made me so fucking angry.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, only hummed. He understood when things from _that time_ came up. He didn’t ask questions when it happened. Just waited, open for both a change of subject and further elaboration.

There was a moment of silence. They could hear the clucking of the chickens, a car passing by the street.

“I started back _then_. It helped with the hunger cramps,” Nathan said, blowing smoke towards the steel gray sky. “When I got back I got the cravings, but I didn’t want to do something that I picked up while they kept me imprisoned, you know? But then the night terrors got really bad and I was so desperate. I would have done anything to just sleep in peace for a few hours. So I thought, if it helped with the hunger, maybe it’ll help with this too. And it did.”

He looked at Gabriel then, his eyes troubled. “Do you think I’m weak for that?”

Gabriel got closer, so close he could feel Nathan’s warm breath on his skin, but not close enough to lose eye contact. “You’re the strongest person I know. If anything, you’re an example.”

Nathan smiled, but he looked slightly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t say that if you had seen me then. When Arran questioned me about the smoking thing I blew up. I knocked over the kitchen table, threw things. I was angry at him, but actually I hated myself for giving in.”

“You had just gotten back. You needed time. I’m sure Arran understands.”

Nathan looked at the cigarette he was holding. The smoke curled lazily from the burning tip, evanescent like its promise of oblivion. “I guess.”

_Of course he does. He’s the kindest person in the world._

 

When they got back inside, they found Gran and Deborah in the kitchen, trying to tame the battleground into order again. Plates and tableware were piled in a dangerously high stack in the sink, and the small counter was covered in mugs and glasses. The cookie dough, covered by a large tea towel, was still waiting on the table.

“Ah, right on time,” Deborah said, handing Natasha over to her youngest brother. “Take Nat while I help Gran out, okay?”

“Don’t you want me to help?” Nathan asked, taking the toddler into his arms.

Deborah’s answer of “Nah, there’s no need” was covered by Gran exclaiming, “I think they should help!” Deborah turned to her, exasperated. “Gran, stop that. Leave them alone.”

Gran muttered something suspiciously similar to _my not-so-innocent baby_ , but otherwise relented. Gabriel tried to hide his snicker.

 

Since Deborah had shooed them out of the kitchen, they sat back on the couch. Arran had cleared the floor of the gift wrap and bows and was, incredibly enough, studying one of his textbooks.

“Isn’t Christmas supposed to be one long, food-filled study break?” Gabriel asked, eyeing the thick volume.

Arran chuckled. “Doctors don’t get holidays, the earlier I get used to it the better.”

“Arran is a pathological overachiever. You should have seen him before his first semester’s exams,” Nathan said, balancing Natasha on one knee and rocking her gently up and down. She held his hands in a death grip, but she was bubbling happily. “The week before the first one, he basically stopped sleeping for three days straight. He’d just take an hour nap in between study sessions and then he was at it again.”

Arran ducked his head. “I was stressed.”

Nathan sneered. “Stressed? I had to sabotage your cellphone’s alarm to force you to sleep. And you slept for 14 hours straight after that. And you know what the best part is?” he asked, looking at Gabriel.

“Uh, no?” Gabriel said, not paying much attention. He was more fascinated by how at ease Nathan looked with his niece.

“To change the settings of his cellphone, I had to take it from his pocket first, right? He woke up for a second when I did, but he wasn’t really awake. He looked at me with a murderous face and said, _No_. I asked him _No what, Arran_ and he said, _Just no_ , and he put his head back down on the table and fell asleep again.” He laughed, and Natasha followed suit, laughing as well. Arran sighed. “Yes, I love you too, laugh at me. Look what you’re teaching my niece, Nathan. She doesn’t respect me at all.”

“Aww, did you hear that, Nat? Uncle Arran demands some respect. Should I teach you how many straight As he got?”

Natasha crawled on his lap and put her tiny hands around his neck, and promptly nestled on his shoulder to sleep.

“Thought so.”

Gabriel shifted closer, fitting his side to Nathan’s. “Never thought you’d be this good with children.”

The other scoffed. “I don’t know about ‘children’. I just know Nat.”

“Nathan is the official babysitter,” Arran said, without looking up from his textbook.

“No, that’s Gran, she’s the responsible adult. I’m the juvenile criminal.”

Arran looked up, graceful brows knitting together, but before he could say anything, Gabriel spoke. “The same juvenile criminal who finally admits why he inexplicably ditched me on random afternoons?”

Nathan scowled at him.

“What, you thought I’d consider you uncool or something?”

Nathan’s scowl deepened, and he looked away.

Gabriel valiantly fought the urge to kiss him in a way that would have made Arran very, very embarrassed to be there.

Nathan shrugged, and was about to say something, but the movement stirred Natasha. She blinked, and didn’t look pleased at having been roused. She looked even less pleased when she noticed Gabriel so close. She started crying.

“I’m sorry Nat,” Nathan said, trying to ease her back to sleep by rocking her lightly. “Did Gabriel’s face scare you? I can’t really blame you.”

Gabriel grabbed his sides to tickle him, and put his lips to his ear to whisper, “What was that, Mr. ‘I like it a lot’?”

Arran looked up again as Nathan tried to yell _Stop it you idiot!_ in between laughs, as Gabriel tickled him mercilessly and as Nat started to cry again. Arran opened his mouth to ask _Like what a lot_ , but he thought better of it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Nathan put a hand on his laughing boyfriend’s face and pushed him away. “Stop it I said! I was trying to get her to sleep!”

As soon as Gabriel an arm’s distance away, Nat stopped crying. The abruptness of the fact was, in Gabriel’s opinion, quite offensive. He stared at the toddler – who stared back with _perfectly dry_ eyes – and seriously considered the idea that he had just found the one family member who hated him. Or at least strongly disliked him.

He tried to get closer to Nathan again, keeping eye contact with the little pest. She started crying again. When he got close enough she even tried to push him away with her chubby arm as Nathan had just done.

Gabriel sat back a little, dumbfounded, as Arran snickered in the background. “I think somebody’s feeling threatened by the new boyfriend,” he said.

“I can’t believe a toddler is jealous of me,” Gabriel said, at which Nathan looked at him with a disbelieving expression. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s not jealous.”

“She’s definitely jealous.”

“Shut up Arran, she’s 11 months old!”

“So what? Ever heard of baby sitter crushes? Gabriel, try to get closer again.”

Gabriel did, pecking a scowling Nathan on the cheek. Nat promptly started to cry again.

Nathan looked to the ceiling. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Meanwhile, his very mature boyfriend was engaging the little girl in a staring contest, whispering absolutely ridiculous things to her such as _You can’t have him he’s mine you jealous pest, and I don’t share_. Nathan could have sworn Nat stared back at his boyfriend with a look that said, _You just watch me._

“ _Okay_ that's enough, I’m going to put her to sleep,” he finally said, getting up from the couch. “Be right back.” He climbed the rickety stairs to the guest room (formerly Jessica and Deborah’s room), where Gran had set up a little cozy corner for Nat.

Gabriel watched him go until he disappeared from view, a fond smile on his lips.

“Surprised?”

Gabriel turned to Arran. “By what? Having found who doesn’t like me in this family?”

Arran chuckled. “No, I meant by Nathan. What with being so good with Natasha and all.”

“Oh, that. Well,” Gabriel pondered, “actually no, not really.” He felt the weight of his gaze.

“How so?”

He matched the scrutiny with calmness. “Because I know how much Nathan treasures having a loving family. It makes sense he’d do his best to pass it on.”

Arran smiled a little at that. Gabriel was already congratulating himself when Arran said, “We treasure Nathan too. Well, save for Jessica… And as a loving family, I think it’s our duty to watch over him…”

 _I don’t like where this is going,_ Gabriel though. Was it just a trick of the flame from the fireplace, or was Arran’s smile rather menacing now?

“So let’s all do our best to make him happy, okay?” he finished. His smile was still in place, exuding a sort of radiant gentleness that made Gabriel think of how Nathan always said there was no one in the world nicer than his big brother. For a second he almost believed it too. _Must have been a trick of the light…_

They were silent for a while then, Gabriel waiting for Nathan’s return, Arran reading his textbook. Growing restless with the stretching silence, Gabriel tried to strike a conversation. “What are you studying?”

Arran didn’t loop up and said, “Pathology,” but since he didn’t look unnerved Gabriel pressed on. “Pathology is a rather broad subject. What topic are you on exactly?”

“How to diagnose infections and various conditions of the male genital system from the presence of rash, inflammation, atrophy or necrosis of the tissues.”

“Ah… interesting…”

Arran pinned him with a smiling stare. “Yes. _Very_ interesting.”

Gabriel looked at him, disbelieving and not a little horrified. “What?”

“What?”

And he was _still smiling_.

_Definitely not a trick of the light!_

“Uhm… nothing…”

Arran hummed and got back to study.

Gabriel wondered if there ever really was such a page or if Arran had made all that up on the spot.

 

“I think your brother threatened me with castration if I ever hurt you.”

“Who, _Arran?_ Oh come on Gabriel.”

“No seriously. He said all these absolutely horrifying things that can happen to male genitals that may or may not have been on his book…”

“...Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You’re putting a real strain on my family relationships.”

“No I’m not! They’re just ridiculously protective, it’s not my fault!”

“I should bring you home more often. Deborah has never fussed so much over me, Gran stuffs me with cookies, and Arran gets hilarious.”

“I hate you.”

“What was that?”

“I love you with all my heart.”

“That’s better.”

 

They were all eating Gran’s cookies and arguing over who had to go out to buy more wine when the phone ringed. Deborah got up to take the call amid the back-and-forth of accusations and laughter – “I’m old and frail, you should go!” “Oh now she’s old and frail, well I’m a minor, how about that?” “So you’re a minor when you buy cigarettes too?” “What’s the point of all this, let’s just send Arran!” “HEY!” – although with all that noise she doubted she could understand at all…

“Hello?”

She gasped when she recognized the voice. “Hi mom! Merry Christmas!”

The commotion stopped at once. Everyone was looking at Deborah – or rather, at the receiver she was holding.

Gabriel noticed how Gran and Arran were both smiling, but Nathan looked torn. Just under the surface of the hopeful smile, something darker lurked.

Deborah turned to them. “Mom wants to skype! Set up the computer!”

In a flurry of motion, the coffee table was cleared, the computer set at the center of it, and everybody was squished on the couch in front of the screen. Deborah was the last one to sit down – on Arran’s lap – just as the video call connected. Gabriel had the armrest, since there wasn’t any space left – besides, staying at the side felt appropriate. Nathan grabbed his hand. His palm was sweaty, even though his face didn’t betray any emotion.

Gabriel interlaced their finger and covered his hand with his own as the image on the screen loaded. The video was pretty low quality, so he couldn’t see well how Nathan’s mother, Cora Ashworth, looked like. He could make out light hair, pretty similar to Arran’s and Deborah’s. There was also a little something in her features that reminded him of Nathan. Something about the curve of the lips, the line of the cheekbones… it was hard to say through that haze of pixels. It was a little surprising. From how Nathan talked, he had thought he was the spitting image of his father, without the faintest trace of Cora.

“Hi everyone! Merry Christmas!” Nathan’s mother said, her smile visibly warm even through the low quality video.

“Done saving lives for today?” Gran asked after the chorus of wishes subsided.

Cora pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed, but it sounded tired. “I came out of the surgery room half an hour ago and I feel ready to collapse any moment, so do your best to keep me awake.”

Arran asked, “How long was the surgery this time?” just as Deborah exclaimed, “Look we have Nathan’s charming Swiss prince here!”

The two siblings stared at each other for a second before Arran said, “ _Okay_ , yes, priorities.”

Nathan groaned.

Gabriel leaned to the side to better fit into the image and said, “Nice to meet you Mrs Ashworth.”

“Nice to meet you too…” She faltered. Gabriel felt Nathan’s grip tightening.

“Gabriel, mom,” he supplied. His voice was low, subdued, the way it was when he tried his best to keep it even.

“Oh right, Gabriel. I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names on my best days and right now I’m so tired.”

“It’s no problem. I bet impossible heart surgeries on the other side of the ocean will do that to you,” Gabriel said, ever the charmer. In his mind, though, he was wondering. He had been told time and time again that Nathan never stopped talking about him.

So how didn’t Cora remember even his name?

They chatted for a while, about how the weather was in La Paz (hot as Hell), what her plans for Christmas were (sleeping), and then they moved on to various updates on her children’s lives. She seemed particularly interested in the greenhouse Nathan and Gran were building. Mundane things. Yet, something definitely felt odd. She asked a lot about Nathan’s unholy mess of a school life – an explosive mix of bad attitude, untreated learning disabilities and punk lifestyle – but she didn’t look interested in the least in Arran’s university career. She looked resigned at Nathan’s list of fights and detentions – although Gabriel knew for a fact he was getting fewer of them, since Gabriel himself made sure he at least tried to keep his temper in check (and, _surprise_ , Nathan did try if someone really believed he could).

She didn’t seem to know.

Just as she didn’t seem to know that Deborah had been planning to move in with David and Natasha in Gran’s house for at least two months, and that they were planning the renovations together.

Just as she didn’t seem to know that Arran had joined a volunteer group in the pediatric ward of his university’s hospital, a month before.

And yet, the conversation was pleasant. She was welcoming to him, talking at length about the last book he had read, which she knew too – _The Catcher in the Rye_ – and she didn’t look bothered in the least by the fact that he and Nathan were dating, or that Nathan was dating a boy for that matter. She sighed with an exasperated smile at Nathan’s absolute lack of regret over the fights he got himself into. She laughed as Deborah recounted the last disaster Natasha had left in her wake as she learned to walk.

But if there was something Gabriel was good at, it was reading people, and the emotions gathered around that computer felt to him very much like the frozen surface of a deep, black lake. Picture perfect, fragile, and ready to crack.

After an hour or so, Cora said, “Well, this was fun, but I really need to sleep now. I’m seeing two of all of you.”

As everybody wished her goodbye, Nathan blurted out, “Are you getting back soon?”

Cora sighed. “Nathan…”

“I just want you to meet Gabriel. Please.”

 _Please?_ Now that was a very rare word in Nathan’s mouth.

“I will see what I can do. No promises.”

The desperate longing that flashed across Nathan’s features caught Gabriel by surprise.

After a few other goodbyes and wishes, the call ended. An uncomfortable silence fell.

Gran sighed. “You should just be grateful she called, Nathan.”

Deborah’s expression turned stormy. “That she _bothered_ to call, you mean.”

Nathan stood up. “I’m going to buy that wine.”

His hand never left Gabriel’s, who followed him out.

 

The streets were quiet. Hardly a car passed them by. They walked arm in arm, huddling close against the cold that needled their faces.

Gabriel knew better than to pry answers out of Nathan, so he asked, “Aren’t shops closed on Christmas?”

Nathan, who had been staring at the ground, seemed to wake up a little at that. “They are, but Aunt Eliza lives above her liquor shop and she won’t mind.”

Gabriel gaped. “Wait, _aunt_?”

Nathan chuckled. “She’s not my aunt, she’s everybody’s aunt. It’s a nickname. Seriously Gabriel, how long have you been living here?”

“To my defense, I have good reasons to avoid liquor shops.”

Aunt Eliza was indeed at home, but she insisted on giving the wine as a present to Gran. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice how she stressed the fact that the two bottles were for Gran, staring at him all the while. If it was because he had his arm still under Nathan’s, or because he had dared to greet her with his treacherous French accent, he wasn’t sure. For good measure, when they went their way he said his goodbyes in French and put a hand in Nathan’s back pocket.

She looked like she had just swallowed a lemon whole.

Gabriel didn’t make it to three steps away from her. He burst into laughter the moment they turned. “Do you think she wants her bottles back now?”

Nathan laughed. “Shut up Gabriel, you sound drunk already!”

Gabriel looked at him, at how his eyes sparkled again, and thought with sudden clarity, _If I could devote my life to make him laugh like that every day, I would. Dead-beat fathers and absent mothers be damned._

They walked back in silence after that. Nathan seemed a little more relaxed at least. They passed by a square with a bench under a cluster of barren trees and stopped to have a smoke. Gabriel sat down on the profanities-covered wood, while Nathan remained standing. He tapped his foot for all the time it took them to finish. Gabriel took his hand and drew him nearer, until he sat on his legs. He respected Nathan’s silence and didn’t say anything, just met his eyes, calmly.

After a while, Nathan put his forehead to Gabriel’s and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry the day turned out like this. It was supposed to be fun for you.”

Gabriel smirked. “It’s only 4pm. If what I’ve seen today is any indication, your family probably has a hundred other crazy antics to show.”

Nathan chuckled. Then he groaned.

“What?”

“I just remembered Jessica’s existence. She might drop by.”

“Well, I have to meet her too, don’t I?”

“Gabriel, I don’t think you understand how bloody nasty that bitch is.”

“I think I have an idea from the string of profanities you always attach to her name.”

Nathan fidgeted with the lapels of Gabriel’s jacket. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“If she passes by, and I get as nasty as her with the insults, please don’t judge me.”

Gabriel looked baffled. “Why would I do that?”

Nathan shrugged. “You know. Insulting your sister is bad. Even when she’s your nasty half-sister.”

The unspoken name of Gabriel’s own sister – asleep and unresponsive in a hospital ward – hung in the still air between them.

Gabriel smiled. “It’s okay. Do your worst with her. I’ll even cheer you on.”

Nathan put his pointer finger’s to the corners of Gabriel’s lips and pushed down. “Don’t smile like that. It hurts.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. He brought Nathan’s leathery knuckles to his lips and kissed them. Nathan unzipped Gabriel's coat and sneaked his hands inside, clasping them at his back. He savoured the warmth as Gabriel hid in his shoulder.

Nathan felt him shiver, but only once.

When they got back, they were scolded by Gran for taking ‘Too bloody long, and what were you doing in the freezing cold outside all that time anyway?’

Gabriel could have sworn Arran shot him the fastest-to-disappear glare he had ever seen. So fast, in facts, that he thought he had imagined it, and so what was the point of telling Nathan?

(That, and the fact that Nathan completely, absolutely _adored_ his big brother, too much to be bothered by the overprotective streak he might or might not have been showing.)

A new round of mulled wine was prepared and passed around. Nat had woken up in the meantime, and she too was passed around from arms to arms (never Gabriel’s). Maybe it was the sour aftertaste the video call had left, maybe it was just that Deborah’s mulled wine was even better than Gran’s, but in very little time everyone was tipsy.

Seeing as the atmosphere was merry again – and seeing as he was _itching_ for the chance to test Arran’s boundaries – Gabriel decided that was the perfect moment to ask, “What was that glare you gave me earlier? Certainly you don’t think we did anything that requires the removal of clothes in this freezing weather?”

Arran sputtered. “O-of course not!”

Nathan fixed Gabriel with a warning stare that spelled out _I know your antics and I’m telling you DON’T_. Gabriel blissfully ignored him and said, “Because you know, we tried that once but if you ask me, outdoors quickies are overrated. What’s better than my own comfortable b---“

Nathan put both his hands on Gabriel mouth. “You’re _unbelievable_! Do you want me to choke you with one of these cushions?”

Gabriel fought him off only to say “Kinky”, at which point Nathan wrestled him into the couch, Arran looked sorry to be alive, Gran played with Nat while pointedly not participating in the discussion, and Deborah had the brilliant idea to ask, “Ooh so you’re already _there_? I want details!”

Arran gaped at her. “Deborah, are you nuts? Do you seriously want to know that?”

She shrugged. “Well, normally I wouldn’t, but I’m tipsy right now and I want to.”

“You’re still breastfeeding! You’ve had only juice!”

“Details, Arran, details.”

In the meanwhile, Nathan had shoved Gabriel off the couch and was now tickling him. Gabriel tried to escape, but Nathan was _vicious_ when he wanted to and didn’t let him, until the doorbell rang. Gabriel took advantage of the other’s momentary distraction and wriggled away, exclaiming, “I’m going to catch that!”

Nathan was at his heels in an instant. “Get back here you big-mouthed prick!”

When Gabriel opened the door, his first thought was _Well, MERDE._

The second was _Ow!_ when Nathan crashed into him, nearly toppling him.

The third, as he crashed into the not-so-stranger in front of him, was _This is not how I want to greet my boyfriend’s Infamous Dad!_

Gabriel found himself plastered between _Him_ and Nathan for an awkwardterrifyinghilarious second or so until Nathan whipped back as if scorched and honest-to-god _squeaked_ “Dad!” Gabriel would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been focused on the hands gripping his biceps with almost bruising force. He tried to meet _His_ eyes, but _He_ was looking beyond him. _He_ was looking at Nathan, and _He_ was smiling at him, eyes abyss-cold, obsidian black.

“Hello, Nathan,” _He_ said, pleasant and calm. Gabriel noticed just then the dead silence reigning in the next room. He could hear the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Nathan, who had been so full of laughter not a minute before, was now a tense bundle of nerves. He looked at his father with a mix of expectancy and anxiousness that Gabriel had never seen before in him. His black eyes were a tumbling storm of too many different emotions for Gabriel to tell them all apart.

“Hello, Dad,” Nathan said, quietly. Gabriel could _hear_ the capitalization of that word. He was no stranger to the sense of dreadful awe _He_ inspired himself, after all – _Infamous Dad_? _I have to stop letting Nathan feed my over-active imagination._

Marcus – because he knew His _\- his_ name, _putain_ _–_ smiled, seraphic and inscrutable. He handed Nathan a red bag, decorated with a big golden ribbon. “Merry Christmas to you _–_ ” and he turned to Gabriel then, eyes narrowing just slightly, “ _–_ and to Gabriel.”

Nathan flustered and peered into the bag. It contained two gifts wrapped in tasteful pastel paper. Gabriel locked eyes with Marcus, unflinching and smiling himself, and he reached out a hand. “Thank you, Marcus. I'm happy to finally meet you.”

Marcus shook his hand. “You're welcome. And I'm happy to meet you too.”

His grip was like iron underneath the black gloves he wore. The leather slithered on Gabriel's skin when they parted, cold and clinging.

Nathan eyed them both wearily as he said, “Do you want to come in? We have mulled wine.”

Marcus chuckled. “I'm not sure I can cross this threshold without your grandmother coming at me with a kitchen knife.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

They all turned. Gran was standing behind them, hand on her hips and a stern expression etched in the weathered furrows of her face. “You took the trouble to come all this way to see Nathan, least I can do is give you a chair to sit on.” Her words were clipped, cut out at the edges with harsh shears, but she let Marcus in nonetheless. He thanked her graciously.

His eyes, however, were trained on Gabriel, who felt both excitement and fear churn in his ribcage. He could recognize a challenge when he saw one. And what is more challenging than meeting your boyfriend's suspected-of-murder-multiple-times-but-never-caught-and-maybe-even-innocent dad?

 _Well, this is going to be fun,_ Gabriel thought, as he followed him and Nathan to the kitchen.

As they passed the living room, Arran and Deborah silently stared at Marcus. He ignored them, but they didn't look angry nor offended. They didn't look much like anything, really; they wore twin blank expressions and a watchful, level gaze. Gabriel wondered if the siblings had a score to follow; silent lines rehearsed who knows how many times, for those times when being good siblings was harder.

 

Marcus was, indeed, given a chair at the kitchen table, nothing more, nothing less. Nathan ushered Gran out when she tried to set up the tea and prepared it himself. Gabriel would have liked to do it instead, give Nathan as much time as possible to talk with his father; Marcus had pointed out he only had a handful of minutes. But that was Gabriel's first time in the house, and it would've been embarrassing to open and close every pantry three or four times to find everything – not the first impression he wanted to make.

And so, that's how he found himself sitting in front of Marcus and talking about attempted murder.

“There are such wild stories floating around, you must think I'm serial killer,” Marcus said, amusement dancing in his voice. “And yet people forget I was the victim in the only process I was ever involved in. Dean was the one found guilty. He almost killed me.”

“Dean?” Gabriel asked.

“Arran's and Debs' dad,” Nathan clarified as he filled the kettle.

Gabriel followed his gestures, as clipped as Gran's words had been. He wondered if it was nerves, or excitement, or both, that made his hands flutter around like birds too scared by a hunter's shots to find a bough to rest.

“Yes, Cora's ex husband. Terribly jealous, but luckily for me, not very skilled with blades.”

“Are we talking about the guy who found you and Cora naked in his bed?” Gabriel asked, fixing Marcus with a challenging look. “What did you expected him to do, give you cookies?”

Marcus chuckled - like he was talking about some funny mishap, not the day he found himself with two inches of steel in the gut. “I expected my fame to protect me, I guess.”

 _As if I don't know what fame you're talking about_ , Gabriel thought. Then he smirked. “Fame, uh.”

Nathan turned to glare at him, but Gabriel just did what he did best: he smiled, amused and serene, at his boyfriend's implied threat. Marcus observed them, eyes dark and sharp like obsidian shards. Then, he smiled amiably again. “It could have been the perfect set up. The cops had been waiting for a slip, _any_ slip, even just tax evasion. And instead, what did they get? A low-level mobster finds me with his wife and almost kills me. And so the police has to guarantee my safety as a victim instead. The irony.” Marcus' smile morphed into a feral grin as he recalled the episode.

Gabriel didn't miss how he had avoided to say anything about his alleged fame. “Well I hope you pay all your taxes then. Wouldn't it be disgraceful if you ended up like Al Capone? Thrown in the slammer for tax evasion?”

Marcus' countenance soured as he turned to shot a displeased look at his son. “Really, Nathan. Do you want to scare him off?”

Nathan just did what he did best: he rolled his eyes, unimpressed and indulgent, at his boyfriend's inappropriate antics. “Better if he knows what he's getting tangled in, isn't it?” He rummaged through the cabinets, taking out a variety of paper and tin boxes. “What kind of tea do you want? Gran always buys the fanciest shit, you name it and she has it.”

Gabriel snorted. “What a bold statement. Then for sure you have chai?”

Nathan glared at him. “I said she has the fanciest shit, not hipstery shit. This is England, not Florida.”

“So harsh,” Gabriel said, amused. Nathan stuck out his tongue at him as he handed him a mug.

As he accepted his own cup, Marcus said in a honey-sweet voice, “So what exactly did you tell your friend?”

Nathan's hands rattled sharply at his father's sudden grip on his wrist. Fear and fury broke his voice down to a fierce almost-whisper. “First of all, you don't get to have a say in what I tell him or not. Second of all, he's not my _friend_ , he's my boyfriend, and you f--- _and you know it_.”

They stared at each other, unmoving, for a few tense seconds, until Marcus released him and sat back on the chair. “I've had my doubts. I had been told you had a girlfriend before. A lovely girl named Annalise.”

Gabriel looked as Nathan straightened and then exhaled, if in exasperation, fury or relief, he couldn't tell. So many nasty implications in so few words.

_I know who you hang out with._

_I have someone who keeps me posted on who you're seeing._

_I think having partners of different genders isn't a valid option._

Gabriel brushed his boyfriend's clenched hand with his fingertips. The faint touch eased some of the tension out, and Nathan looked at him as he interlaced their fingers. Gabriel pulled him, and when he met no resistance, he pulled some more until Nathan was sitting on his lap, facing Marcus. For good measure, he draped his arms around Nathan's waist, too.

Marcus' eyes narrowed as he calmly sipped his tea.

It was as he thought about how to steer the conversation to safer waters, that Nathan heard a shuffle and a suspicious thump from behind the closed door. He ignored it, hoping his father hadn't noticed.

Marcus' gaze fixed on the door.

Nathan sighed. _Of course you would notice._

He listened in silence for a few more seconds, until he could make out the muffled chattering of two very familiar voices.

“Did you hear that? Was he really talking about Annalise?”

“I don't know, if you'd _shut up_ for a second, Debs...”

“...Wait, what's this silence?”

Gabriel shook with silent laughter as Nathan said, annoyed, “I can hear you!”

There were gasps, and more thumps, and then Deborah and Arran tumbled out of the door and landed on the floor in an embarrassed heap.

Even Marcus smirked.

 

Nathan's father didn't stay for more than it took to finish his tea. Nathan and Gabriel accompanied him to the door, while Deborah and Arran made a show of watching some Christmas movie on the telly and Gran made a show of sharpening a knife from the only spot of the kitchen visible from the entrance.

“Seriously?” Gabriel asked when he noticed her.

“Seriously,” Nathan deadpanned.

Marcus chuckled. “That's pretty standard behaviour from Mrs Ashworth.” He turned to his son and said, “See you, Nathan.”

Nathan, ever the stubborn little thing Gabriel loved, answered, “See you _soon_ , Dad.”

Marcus didn't reply. Then he pinned Gabriel down with his black gaze. “Keep out of trouble,” he said.

Gabriel jolted, too stunned to reply, and in a moment, Marcus was off. They watched in silence as his sleek car disappeared down the road.

Then Nathan punched Gabriel in the shoulder.

“ _OW!_ What was that for?!”

“For giving lip to a _fucking mafia hit man_ _you suicidal idiot_!”

“You didn't have to hit me that hard you know?” Gabriel whimpered pitifully, massaging the sore spot and hanging his head.

Nathan tried to peer into his boyfriend's half-hidden face, looking guilty. “Uh, was it... really too much?”

Gabriel met his eyes. He was smiling.

“ _You little-_ ” Nathan began, but was interrupted when Gabriel kissed him. He thought about hitting him again just to make a point, but decided against it when his boyfriend did a very skilled _thing_ with his tongue that tore a gasp from Nathan's lips.

After they parted, Gabriel chuckled breathlessly. “Well, that was certainly entertaining.”

Nathan sagged against him. “I really hope we're done withthe _entertainment_ for today.”

“Uuh, about that...” came Deborah's hesitant voice from the living room. She was waving her cellphone in the air. “I just received a text from Jessica.”

Nathan sagged some more into Gabriel.

Deborah cringed. “She's just going to make her wishes and then go, probably.”

“I should hope so, because I'm not hiding away in my room, and neither is Gabriel,” Nathan said with the voice of a man walking to the gallows. Gabriel tried to prop him upright again, a half-worried, half-amused smile on his lips.

“No one would ask you to, Nathan,” Arran interjected in his best reassuring-and-caring angel voice.

Nathan sighed deeply. “I need booze.”

“...Haven't you had enough for today?” Arran asked dubiously.

“I need _more_ booze.”

“I could do with another cup of _vin chaud_ too,” Gabriel said, looking expectant.

Arran looked more and more dubtful. “I don't think Nathan, alcohol and Jessica are things we should mix together...”

“I don't think Nathan can stand to share the same room with Jessica _without_ alcohol, so if you'll excuse me, Nathan is off fetching the mulled wine now,” Nathan said, striding to the kitchen.

So that's how Gabriel found himself draped over the couch again, Nathan's warmth in his arms added to the warmth of spices and red wine in his blood, and the wait for the infamous Jessica hanging in the air. Nathan was drinking his cup with alarming speed. Gabriel was lost in contemplation of how adorable that dusting of red looked on his cheeks when Nathan said, “I guess this is as good a time as any to mention that when I say Jessica is a nasty bitch, I mean she's a nasty homophobic bitch.”

Arran sighed, Deborah eyed the ceiling and Gran huffed, but no one said anything.

“I can't wait to meet this piece of work of a woman,” Gabriel said, just as someone knocked on the door. Gran went to open it, and she greeted her eldest grandchild with a hug. Gabriel sipped his wine as Deborah joined them and wishes were exchanged. Jessica was certainly beautiful; she looked like she was on her way to a stylish Christmas dinner, with her hair done up in perfect ringlets, and tasteful make up. Then her gaze fell on Gabriel and Nathan. Her face soured instantly. Gabriel could see her nose and forehead wrinkling in a disgusted frown even from the couch.

He turned back and muttered an incredulous “ _Wow_ ” in his mug. Nathan chuckled quietly. “Told you.”

“My condolences,” Gabriel whispered back.

Jessica strode to them and said, “Merry Christmas, fag.”

“Merry Christmas, bitch,” Nathan replied without missing a beat.

“Aren't you too young to be drinking that?”

“The only way I can deal with your ugly face is through a haze of alcohol strong enough to hide it,” Nathan replied, lifting up his mug in a mock-toast to his stepsister and then taking a big swig.

Jessica sneered. “There's no amount of alcohol that can make _me_ deal with seeing your ugly face. Where's your scumbag father? Am I going to be subjected to his presence too, or is he nowhere to be found, like always?”

“Actually, he just left. What a pity you didn't run into him, uh?” Nathan asked, a sneer of his own dripping venom through teeth and words.

“A _real_ pity. I could've arrested him then.”

“For what? Existing?”

Jessica trained her hate-sparking eyes on Gabriel then. “Him existing is bad enough.”

Nathan was on his feet and in her face in an instant, teeth bared as he said, “Leave him alone, you ugly wrinkled hag.”

Arran and Deborah were even quicker at separating them with calming words and well-trained touches. Gran escorted Jessica to the kitchen to avoid further discussion.

Gabriel wound his arms around Nathan's waist and brought him down again on the couch. “Stay boy, stay.”

“I'm not a dog,” Nathan mumbled, coiled muscles relaxing in his boyfriend's embrace.

“No you're not,” Gabriel said, burying his face in the tender slope where Nathan's neck and shoulder met. “You're my adorable, overprotective puppy.” He expected at least a light slap for that; what he got instead was a _giggle_. Gabriel put his lips to Nathan's cheek and found it warm and cherry-red. “Are you drunk?”

Nathan pushed his face clumsily against Gabriel's, making their noses touch. “I should have stopped at the fourth mug. Or was it the fifth?” he mumbled.

“So that quite informative show was the alcohol talking?”

“Actually that was pretty civilized for our standards. No hitting involved.”

Gabriel gaped. “You're kidding.”

“Nnnope.”

“...And here I thought my sister was bad because she throws plates at me.”

“I'm sure you deserve it every time.”

Nathan laughed hysterically when Gabriel tickled him in retaliation. He didn't stop laughing even when his boyfriend stopped. “Uh, Nathan? You can stop laughing now. No? Well, okay I guess.”

Of course, Arran showed up, looking worriedly at his little brother. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah don't worry, he's just his normal happy-drunk self,” Gabriel said, dismissive.

“How would you know that's _normal_?” Deborah interjected, popping up from seemingly nowhere right beside her brother.

“Uuuh...”

“What is this, a courthouse? Stop questioning him,” Nathan said, suddenly serious. Then he disentangled himself from Gabriel's arms and stood up. “We're going upstairs. Better if I lay down for a while.”

Arran shot him a scandalized look. “ _Together?_ ”

Nathan giggled again. “What are you, a medieval maiden?”

Arran sputtered at that, as Deborah laughed at his expenses and said, “He's right you know. You get surprisingly virginal on him these days.”

As the two older siblings bickered, Gabriel let Nathan guide him upstairs, hand in hand. When he turned to glance at them one last time – hoping to catch a glimpse of Jessica the Witch, but no luck – he met Deborah's watchful eyes. When they were alone in Nathan's room and comfortably nestled under the covers, Gabriel said, “Deborah is quite the surprising type.”

Nathan nuzzled closer, adjusting his grip around Gabriel. Sleeping and embracing always needed complex arrangements, with no small amount of awkward angles. “She's always so quiet, people often forget she's there.”

“Quietly judging, you mean.”

Nathan chuckled. “Don't worry, she likes you.”

They heard muffled conversations floating up from downstairs, steps in the hallway, a door opening and closing. People cooing over Nat, Jessica's words surprisingly _human_ when she succumbed to the unavoidable impulse to speak in baby voice.

“I can't believe she'd say such things to you. And with everyone else present, too,” Gabriel said. What he didn't say was, _I can't believe they let her say such things in their presence_.

Nathan heard the unspoken accusation loud and clear. “They know there's nothing to be done about it. Besides, we did get better over the years. She began to hit me when I was very little, and there was no stopping her. See this scar here?” he asked, and pointed to a little white line on his cheekbone, almost invisible. “She gave it to me when I was around five. She hit me with a framed photograph. It was around the same time I started to hit her back.”

“And the more you grew, the harder you hit her back, I guess.”

“Not gonna lie, there wasn't much 'back' by then. I was as eager as her to start a fight.”

“So she stopped.”

“Not at all. She hit me harder. It escalated to the point we gave each other matching black eyes once. A teacher at school thought Jessica was being abused or something, the police was called. Gran was furious. We've been on a truce since then.”

Gabriel let his disbelief seep into his voice when he said, “A truce in which she's allowed to call you 'fag'.”

Nathan shrugged. “Insults are fair game. Besides, that's a stupid insult. I'm not gay, I'm bisexual.”

Gabriel hummed, unconvinced. Nathan sighed. “Please don't try to do anything about it. She's moved out, I get to live with Gran and Debs, I won. Okay?”

Gabriel chuckled at that. “What do you expect me to do, go to the precinct and make a public accusation of witchcraft against her?”

“Witchcraft sounds about right for her,” Nathan mumbled. “Now stop talking, I'm trying to sleep.”

“And here I thought you wanted to scandalize your brother some more.”

Nathan, eyes closed and limbs heavy with alcohol-induced warmth, smiled faintly. “We could do it in Jessica's bed. She still sleeps in it sometimes.”

Gabriel sounded delighted when he said, “You're so devious.”

“You love it. Now shut up.”

 

Gabriel didn't fall asleep, but he was way too comfortable to even think of moving. He carded his fingers through Nathan's dark, messy locks and listened to him breathing. He could tell when he woke up, slowly, sweetly seeking to melt into Gabriel's warmth even more. The cherry-red glow was gone from his cheeks and nose. After a little coaxing – helped by a generous amount of making out – Gabriel managed to wake him up enough to rejoin the land of the living and mostly-sober downstairs. Jessica was just leaving, exchanging hugs and kisses on the doorstep. Nathan looked so drowsy and harmless that Jessica didn't protest when he stepped in and hugged her lightly.

He whispered in her ear, “You know what, Jessica? Your bed is very comfortable.”

Only the joint and valiant effort of Arran, Deborah and Gran avoided bloodshed.

Gabriel laughed as he kept Nathan – who looked very much _not_ drowsy and quite smug now – at a safe distance. As everybody else escorted Jessica out in the freezing evening, they remained inside, in the cozy warmth of that tiny house, and Gabriel put his lips to Nathan's ear to say in a happy whisper, “Most eventful Christmas ever.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
